At their party later, Dot and Bette introduce us to friends and family like we’re the special guests. It’s heady, and I feel all kinds of floaty. I can’t help but admire what Nolan achieved—this last-minute opportunity at a win we need.
That gratitude blooms inside me over the evening, as swing music plays, as guests indulge in cauliflower tater tots and Greek salad skewers, and as conversation flows like the Bellagio Fountains. This night is an unexpected oasis in the middle of all the work-my-ass-off weeks.
It’ll end, of course, when we hit the Hyundai to haul our butts across state lines in the middle of the night. But even the prospect of the drive looks brighter than it would have yesterday.
As the party winds down, Dot and Bette tug us down the hallway to a quieter section of the house.
“Listen, cuties,” Bette begins, touching my shoulder lightly. “We are so glad you made your way out to Vegas.”
“And at the last minute too. We’re just so tickled,” Dot continues, all the Texas charm dripping in her voice. “We love meeting new friends, and you’re good people.”
“So, we wanted to thank you in a special way. We have a little parting gift for y’all.” Bette points to the living room. “Evelyn can give it to you.”
My cup of gratitude overfloweth. “You ladies are the best.” I hug them both. “And I’ll edit the video tonight and send it to Evelyn in the morning for approval.”
Dot smiles. “I know it’ll be fabulous. But you do that, or Evelyn will have my hide.” She faux shudders.
“We won’t let you incur her wrath,” Nolan promises, then does his whole kiss-on-the-top-of-the-hand routine, eliciting giggles and you’re the bests.
As they return to their guests, Nolan starts toward the living room, but I grab his arm. He’s next in the Emerson love fest. “Hey. This was an amazing idea you had, reaching out to them. I have a good feeling about this.”
A smile spreads nice and easy on his lush lips. “Yeah?” He sounds so happy, like I’ve thrilled him with the compliment.
“I do. You found a great opportunity. Is it crazy that I feel we’re onto something?”
“I told you we’d get lucky in Vegas,” he says, those playful eyes straying to my ladybug charm.
His stare lasts longer than usual. My skin heats under his gaze, my emotions flipping from gratitude to . . . desire.
Ugh.
It’s so annoying having a charming, sexy, fun best friend I want to bang.
But I’ve dealt with it for years.
I’ve got this.
I reroute to friendship.
But when Nolan pulls his gaze away, dragging a hand through his hair, he looks like he’s clearing away his thoughts.
Were they the same thoughts as mine? Is he resetting too?
Oh, shit. Oh, fuck. Oh, my.
That’s a little terrifying.
But it doesn’t matter. I refuse to obsess over things that won’t happen. I can’t.
“And now we’re getting out of Vegas,” I say, focused on the plan, only the plan. “We’ll need lots of caffeine for our drive. What do you think the gift is? Hot coffee? Chocolate? Kale chips?” I ask as we walk down the hall.
“I’m praying for snacks. We can indulge on our midnight road trip,” Nolan says.
We reach the living room, where Evelyn’s waiting by the door, empty-handed. Maybe it’s not snacks, then.
Evelyn twirls the charm on her phone. “Thanks again for coming. Dot and Bette had such a good time with you, and since they’re friends with the women who own The Extravagant, they wanted to get you a suite there tonight. I don’t know if you already have a hotel room but—”
“We’ll take it,” Nolan and I say at the same time.
6
Roller Coaster Kiss
Nolan
* * *
I don’t know why people say they remember something like it was yesterday. I don’t remember half the details of yesterday. What the hell did I wear when I met Emerson outside her morning TV show gig, or chow down on with Jason after an evening workout, or listen to while I packed my overnight bag?
No clue.
But I have a photographic memory of the way Emerson licked her lips when she finished that veggie burger earlier in the week.
I can picture with crystal clarity the way the black bridesmaid dress she wore to her friend Katie’s almost-wedding clung to her chest when she modeled it for me.
And here’s another thing.
I’ve got total recall on that kiss in Vegas. Maybe that means my dick has an excellent memory. Fine, my dick didn’t get a kiss, but he definitely paid attention and filed all the data away in Dick Central Storage, where all the important data is kept.
I’d just returned from France. I’ve got nothing against that country, but it was a relief to get far, far away from Inés Delacroix. My family had warned me against her. My brother and dad both thought she was bad news.